Living the Dream
by Nearly Perfect
Summary: Professional athlete, Harry Potter's greatest dilemma is keeping his younger brother at bay.
1. Wesley Wizen Wotchats

**Title:** Living the Dream: Facing the Nightmare

**Author**: _Nearly Perfect_

**Summary**: Professional athlete, Harry Potter's greatest dilemma is keeping his younger brother at bay.

"_...Harry saw himself in robes that had his name on the back, and imagined the sensation of hearing a hundred-thousand-strong crowd roar, as Ludo Bagman's voice echoed throughout the stadium, "I give you.._.Potter!"

-Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire(2000), pg.** 118** _American Version_

* * *

"Oy, Rich! Over here, mate!" Daniel signaled to his friend frantically. 

"So?! Did you get 'em?! Did you get 'em?!" His fellow fourth year student prodded. Daniel beamed.

"Right here, in my hand, I hold tickets for the_ first_ seasonal quidditch match of the _actual _Chudley Cannons!"

"Yes! Bloody Hell, mate...How d'you ever get a hold of these?"

"My dad works at the ministry." He answered simply.

"In the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts division, Danny, you nutter." Rich snapped lamely.

"Exactly,"Dan grinned back. "Someone in the Games and Sports Department "accidentally" sold a muggle suitcase with a Black Hole Hex on it. Dad did him a favor and hushed it up." Dan said smugly. "Ironic how it just happened to be his mother and law, isn't it?"

"I can't believe you got 'em." Rich awed.

"Neither can I. Can you picture it? Just _wait _until all the guys hear how _we_ got to see _Harry Potter's _professional quidditch debut with our very own eyes..."

"Wow..."

"Yeah."

* * *

"Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, OH MY GOD!" She screamed. 

"What?! What?! Marilyn, what?!" Her mother raced to her room to see her twelve year old daughter jumping on her bed screaming hysterically holding a Witch Weekly magazine.

"Harry Potter is going to be in Hogsmeade _this _weekend for a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes promotion!" She screeched to all Nirvana. "Oh-my-GOD!"

Clutching her chest, her mother turned away speechless from the room muttering something like _'second time this week_...'

* * *

"Say, d'you hear 'bout the Potter lad?" The Hog's Head talk turned. 

"No, what about him?"

"Quidditch," he grunted, "he's playing for the Fudley, Hudley, Dudley-"

"It's _Chudley_, Griff, you great dolt!" His no less intoxicated companion slurred. "Chudley_ Cannons_."

"Right, right, whatever." Slurp.

"He plays quidditch?"

"Dunno, 'ppears so."

"Huh."

"Ugh." Chug.

* * *

"I love Harry Potter..." Rich and Dan awed in unision. 

"I LOVE Harry Potter!" Marilyn Heidge, 12 of Slough screamed.

"I love Harry Potter," anonymous strangers muttered incoherently deep inside the Hog's Head pub.

* * *

"I hate Harry Potter." 

"Simon...,"Lily Potter chastised the sulking fourteen year old.

"What?" He snapped back. "Just because the rest of the world is in love with him doesn't mean I have to be, too does it?"

"Simon-"

"Does it?!"

"Now stop that. Your brother has been waiting for this for a very long time. He can't help what people say about him. A lot of people look up to him, and would kill to be as close to him as you are."

"They can have him." Simon Potter shoved off the counter where his mother was preparing vegetables for dinner. "But they should know," he called as he exited the kitchen with a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, "he eats like a pig, doesn't pick up his room and uses_ way_ too much cologne."

"Don't spoil your di-," she paused, "-nner." It was pointless. Not one of her boys could every spoil their appetites. Not the youngest son, the oldest son or the baby, James. She knew that much by now.

Lily knew that her youngest loved her firstborn. It was just...hard for him to have to share him with the world. After all, she noted with pride only a mother can possess, she didn't see Cynthia Diggory around here bragging about Dear Cedric anymore. It wasn't _her_ son who was the professional quidditch player. She knew it was wrong to think, Cedric was a very sweet boy, but that woman could be just infuriating!

Mind buzzing on Mrs. Diggory, Lily devoted herself to the vegetables.

* * *

Simon Potter was pissed...again. Slamming the door to his room he threw himself onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling. The Great Harry Potter...It was bad enough when it was just his father. James Potter, the great Auror himself. "Defender of Light" they called him. So he defeated one psycho wizard-what-over twenty years ago? Big deal. S'not like he's Dumbledore or anything. 

Simon smiled. Albus Dumbledore, the crazy old coot himself. Headmaster's visits were...interesting, not to mention the funniest damn times to be had. Simon would never forget the look on the old wizard's face when he first met him. It was enough cause for shock when he asked to have one of his Every Flavor Beans, let alone when after popping the completely wrong one into his mouth and stating eloquently, "Alas, ear wax." Simon would never pick out an ear wax. He was an expert.

Sitting up, Simon stared at the wall. He once shared that wall with his brother. That was Harry's and his wall. Not anymore though, no sir. Now he lived somewhere in Devon or other. He claims it's to be closer to the Weasleys, but it's just a way to get away from here. "Here" being boring old Godric's Hollow. Never a change. Never any action. How dull.

As Simon's eyes rested on his old Shooting Star and Comet 260 (which wasn't much better despite vehement claims in the Authenticity Certificate) in the corner, his thoughts turned back to his brother. _What would possess Harry to put himself in the public like that? _Just parading his life about as if..._entertainment_. The thought disgusted Simon. He pledged long ago never to make a mistake like that. He was _not_ his father, and he _definitely_ was not Harry.

Feeling thoroughly depressed, he rose and made a grab for his Comet for a quick flight before dinner. That always seemed to calm him down.

* * *

"And don't forget you have to make an appearance for Wesley Wizen Wotchats or something or other..." 

"It's _Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes_, Frank." Harry corrected him exasperated. "And I know. They've been good friends of mine for the past decade or so, I don't think I'd forget..

"Right, good. So...," the thirty something year old began warily, "where are we on the autograph signing-"

"No where!" Harry ordered firmly before rising and walking away from the fireplace, ignoring Frank Little's cries.

"But Harry-it's for the fans! Come on!" Though he soon gave up, Harry didn't return to the fire place until he was sure that Frank's head was gone. The man was great, but definitely a Parana in the biz.

Harry did not have an _agent_ per se...His dad, Sirius and Ron just thought it was a good idea to get some perspective on the industrial side of quidditch. Well "The Business" sucked, as Harry soon found. Though, he still went along with most of it, since he himself knew absolutely nothing about anything on the matter. Or as he would say, anything at all.

His mom, Hermione and Remus were a little more empathetic for him, understanding the turbulence of stardom. Especially when his name already had celebrity in it's own right. Everybody was keeping up with the Potters. The Potter men and the woman who handled them.

Harry sighed heavily into his tea as he lagged on the couch in his small flat. It was quiet but peaceful. He supposed that after eighteen years of living in a hectic household that an uncomfortable transition stage was to be expected. He grinned into his teacup. He just wished something would catch fire every once and while.

* * *

"_First I was dying to finish high school and start college.  
And then I was dying to finish college and start working.  
And then I was dying to marry and have children.  
And then I was dying for my children to grow old enough so I could return to work.  
And then I was dying to retire.  
And now, I am dying... and suddenly realize I forgot to live."_

-**Author Unknown**

* * *

A/N: Huh, the second fanfic I write in two consecutive days after over two years of absence. Funny how that happens isn't it?

Review or no more(what a great punishment that would be, right?)  
Humor me.

****

lu**m**o**s**


	2. Never Out of Fever Fudge

_**N**o**x**_

**  
A/N:** Hey, I actually thought this was going to be a dud. But I guess I'm all right with it. Kind of cute, maybe. Dunno.

The quote at the end of the last chapter was in a, well, quote book of my teachers that I copied down into mine. I thought the retrospection and the whole life span there was fitting since this story _is_ focused on the three male Potters in different stages of life. I guess....there's a slightly more developed plot in this than TIYF, but lets see how I write this next chapter, eh? I have currently yet to and am sitting here at the computer desk with a completely blank page beneath besides the Title, Author, and chapter number. Can you feel the anticipation?

**

* * *

**

**Title:** Living the Dream: Facing the Nightmare

**Author**: _Nearly Perfect_

**Summary**: Professional athlete, Harry Potter's greatest dilemma is keeping his younger brother at bay.

"_Fame is a fickle friend Harry."  
_"_Celebrity is as celebrity does. Remember that."_

-Gilderoy Lockhart to Harry in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (1999), pg.120 _American Version_

_

* * *

_

Chapter 2: **_Never Out of Fever Fudge_**

"Cannons! Cannons! Cannons!"

The sound of the crowd was deafening. The doubtless minds of the Chudley fans never wavered. This was going to be _their_ season.

And that was his boy.

James Potter yelled and jumped with the rest of them. Almost forty, and kicking. In the one moment when Harry's fingers clasped the snitch and had it in his grip, James saw the past. Suddenly, he was looking into baby Harry's eyes for the first time, that tell tale moment for all father's. Then, he was tucking in a one year old Harry and placing the stuffed toy broom next to him, which he grasped with his little fingers and pulled to his tiny chest before closing his mother's eyes.

He was picking him up after his first fall in their back yard, finally allowing Harry to try to fly without him. Before he could ask if he was all right, Harry was back in the air.

He was coaxing him before his first quidditch match. He was sweeping him into a hug when he won. He was releasing his grip with a grin when Harry didn't want his friends to see him hugging his old man.

He was sitting next to Harry in the Cannons manager, Ragmar Dorkins' office. He was placing a hand on Harry's shoulder when he picked up the quill to sign the contract. And he was telling him how proud of him he was outside the office.

And now he was burning a hole in his throat bloody screaming. It was a perfect day.

* * *

"Well, how does it feel to be a professional quidditch player?" James asked as soon as he entered the locker room.

"Like...," Harry inhaled slowly, but glowing, "like I'm never going to have a private life again?" He laughed.

"Oh yeah," James gave him a shove, "you must be devastated."

"Yes, just crushed." Harry chuckled as he threw the rest of his quidditch robes and gear into his gym bag. "Where's mom and Simon?"

"Waiting outside. Lily thought you'd be embarrassed if your mum went in the Cannons locker room for you." He and Harry shared a laugh at that one. They both knew she'd done it before. "...and Simon, well, I think he's a bit jealous, don't you?"

"That might be one way to put it." Harry said congenially, closing the locker. "Another way is that he's being a-"

"Yes dear?!" James called loudly, putting his hand to his ear. He turned towards the locker room exit. "Yes, Lily, our son's just fine, being a right gentleman completely..."

"Oh, stop." They laughed as the headed for a celebratory dinner back home.

* * *

"That feint was perfectly timed..."

"You looked lovely, dear..."

"You got hit by that bludger really hard." The amiability in the air ceased a bit with Simon's commentary.

"Yes, Simon." Harry said slowly, and carefully like he was speaking to a child-a younger child. "You see, in quidditch, the bludger is used to attempt to knock the _seeker_," he said brightly, "off his head." Simon pulled a face at him which he was glad to return.

"Okay, that's enough." Lily rose from her seat collecting her and James' plate. "It's so good to have you home, Harry. Things are just like normal." She shot her son a playful look before offering up dessert.

"Hey Harry, how's Gaven?" Lily asked in the middle of their pecan pie. Harry froze.

"Oh, she and I aren't seeing each other any more." He answered carefully, fixing his eyes on the embroidery tablecloth.

"Oh, really?" Lily laid her fork down. "How come?"

"Did she dump you?" Simon asked bluntly before shoveling a large bite of pie into his mouth.

"_No_, it was mutual." Harry glared.

"S-ure."

"Look, d'you wanna start?!" He threw down his fork.

"Fine!" Simon followed suit.

"Enough!" James roared as the two boys were making to rise from the table. "Will you two _behave_?! You know, that_ thing _with no Fainting Fancies, Canary Creams, Nosebleed Nougats, Headless Hats, Portable Swamps, Skiving Snackboxes or Puking Pastilles?" Harry and Simon sniggered into their pie as they resumed eating again. Fred and George had provided a plethora of artillery to use against one another on the home battlefield. Obviously, to the great dislike of Lily and James...Not so much James.

The rest of dessert was eaten in silence.

* * *

"My sister will love this!"

"You mean she'll hate it."

"Exactly. I'm getting two."

"No! That means there won't be enough for me to use on my cousins! They're coming to visit next week and they're always right hell!"

"Well, too bad!"

"Yeah! Too bad for you! They're mine!"

"I had 'em first...!"

"Now boys," The looming image of Fred Weasley appeared over Rich and Daniel's heads. "There is plenty more in the back." He smiled mischievously as he turned to retrieve more Fever Fudge from the back.

Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes was filled to the brim with adolescent marauders from it's little plot in Diagon Alley. It was the Grand Opening after a two year renovation, and a debut of three new tricks; Pancreas Pastries, Mucus Mudpies, and Babbling Brooks(_real_ babbling brooks, a portable stream that rudely criticized a passerby's reflection with no remorse).

"Hey, Harry! How you holding up out there, old bean?!" George Weasley called out the door from behind the counter.

"Oh um, just-uh-_fine_-fine Fred!" Harry was surrounded by a large crowd a good fraction of the one inside the shop. Autographs were in high demand from prepubescent girls and boys to girls his age not intimidated by flirting that came close to shamefuland a little bit of ("_ugh!") _uncomfortable groping on their part. The older ones were kinder to him, and treated them almost in a grandparent fashion. However, he still liked the innocent passer byers best, who walked on with just a glance at the frenzy.

Another flash went off and Harry had to blink for several moments before the colored circles would leave his vision. He knew that a photographer and a reporter were present from the _Daily Prophet _and _Witch Weekly_, but he was sure he heard at least three distinct sounding camera clicks and part of him prayed that Colin Creevey went home for the Easter holidays.

It was going to be a very long day.

* * *

Harry hated being right.

After three hours in front of Fred and George's shop he was finally allotted to go home...after being formerly presented (and completely unnecessarily, he might add) with his choice of anything he wanted in the store. Feeling particularly evil, Harry feigned interest and intense concentration and browsed the shop methodically before choosing two boxes of Deflagration Deluxes and firing the full contents of both boxes into the overhead sky as the crowd-and much of Diagon Alley- watched the Weasleys' fireworks in awe and amusement. During which, Harry grabbed a portable swamp and "accidently" dropped it below the twins' feet. As soon as the crowd began to notice the two fiery red heads above a large pool of mud, he made his departure.

Call him weak, but at eighteen Harry still longed for the comfort of his childhood bed. So, that night he stayed at his parents house.

After a long shower, washing off the day, he climbed between thesheets with a deep sigh of content. There, he fell into a peaceful sleep, feeling even particularly younger than he was. But not before one last look at the wall he had formerly shared with his brother, did he accomplish the latter.

* * *

"_My own experience has taught me this:  
__if you wait for the perfect moment when all is safe and assured it may never arrive.  
__Mountains will not be climbed, races won or lasting happiness achieved." _

**- Maurice Chevalier **

* * *

**A/N:** Review please....

_**l**u**m**os_


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